Keen As Karen
by Lord Kristine
Summary: This is a reflection on the life of Karen Mitchell.
1. Forethoughts

For the past few months, Karen had spent most of her time by the ocean. Today was no different. She stared out at the vast expanse of water without actually observing it, her feet buried in wet sand. The waves licked her ankles, but she didn't feel them. She may as well have been absent from the scene. She was, in a way.

Even when her insides had healed and her stretch marks had faded, the unseen scars of what should have been a normal pregnancy remained. She had no reason to feel physically empty, because her body had adjusted to the loss, but it was like a part of her was missing. She wanted to connect with the people around her, but every time she opened her mouth, she'd feel the emptiness inside of her swelling up until it destroyed her will to speak. She seldom cried, although she felt like she should. There was something deeply wrong with her, and she didn't know who to turn to for help.

Claire, fortunately, had been supportive during all of this. Despite the fact that she was tense around the proprietor of Karen's new residence, she visited often. It was very kind of her to put her sister's needs before her own. If anything good had come out of the past few months, it was their restored relationship.

Speaking of which, it was about the time of day when she came over to check up on Karen. She was late. Well, not _really_ late, but Claire-late. Even a few seconds meant the world to her, and missing a minute or two of "sister time" was a disaster in her eyes. Karen predicted that she'd come dashing over and apologize repeatedly, if she was even coming at all.

What an awful assumption to make! _Of course_ she was coming. Claire was nothing if not reliable, nowadays.

Karen could hear her running through the sand. Although she did not turn her head, she could imagine the massive cloud that Claire would be kicking up at such a velocity. She thundered over and hugged Karen without missing a beat.

"I am so, _so_ sorry," she stressed, "I was helping Lily with a school project, and I lost track of time. She was supposed to make a frog out of paper plates, but it got crumpled up in her backpack and she was in tears and- Anyway, I'm here now, and I'm sorry for taking so long. _Really_ sorry. How are you doing? Are you okay?"

Karen didn't reply. Claire was used to her silence by now, and paid it no mind.

"A funny thing happened the other day," she said with an insincere cheerfulness, "The furnace was malfunctioning, and Owen went to investigate it. You know he can be a bit dense, sometimes. He lit a match and burned off his eyebrows by accident. You should see him. He looks ridiculous! . . . I guess we should ask someone to inspect our house, now that we broke our ties with . . . well, you know who I'm talking about. I hate to burn bridges, but I don't have a choice-"

"You should spend some time with the boys."

"Yeah, I saw them today, and they seemed-"

Mid-sentence, Claire realized that Karen had, in fact, spoken to her.

"Karen!" she gasped.

"They need you," Karen continued, "You're a good role model."

Claire gulped.

"What about you?"

Karen turned to face her with hollow eyes.

"Look at me, Claire. I'm a mess. Do you really think I'd be good for them in this state?"

"Well, at least you aren't green!" she laughed awkwardly.

Claire tried to force a smile after her failed quip, but it came out as a twisted frown.

"Karen . . . Please try to cheer up. I know it's not easy, but there are people here who need you."

"They don't need me."

"That's what I told myself too. But it's not true. When you recover, you're going to regret making everyone around you feel . . . not good. It was like that with me, you know. If I could go back and change one thing, I'd improve my attitude."

Karen shook her head.

"Claire, I just _can't_. This is different."

She looked at her sister with worry.

"Karen . . ."

"I want to be left alone."

Claire leaned against her.

"That won't help."

Karen sighed. Her breathing became a little bit shaky.

"Please, Claire. You know what it's like to want to be far away from everything."

"But it doesn't make it better," she affirmed, "Your problems will follow you wherever you go. The only way to get rid of them is to face the truth."

"I'm not ready."

Claire closed her eyes.

"You may not think so, but you'd be surprised to learn what you're capable of. You're stronger than you think, Karen. I guess it's partly my fault for never telling you how much I admired your courage. I made you out to be the weaker sibling, but you really weren't. You knew what was important long before _I_ did. I'm where I am today because I followed your example. Now, it's my turn to help you. Go back to the people you love. Zach and Gray have been waiting patiently, but they need you, Karen. They need you more than anything in the world."

"What good am I?" Karen whispered, "I'm of no use to them like this."

Claire shook her head rapidly.

"Karen, don't give up."

"I don't know what else to do."

Without warning, Karen burst into tears. She buried her face in Claire's shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay. It's okay," Claire whispered.

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Claire patted her sister's back, even when she was done crying. She tried to shepherd her away from the beach, but she shook her head and pushed her away gently.

"Not yet. I'm not ready to face them. I need more time."

Claire bit her cheek nervously.

"How long?"

"I don't know."

Claire nodded slowly and turned around, sighing deeply. She began to trudge down the beach, but stopped after a few paces.

"You're strong, Karen," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder, "I know you don't believe me, but it's true. You'll understand, someday."

Karen didn't reply. She had gone back to staring at the ocean.


	2. Adulthood

Divorce is one of those things that people never expect to have happen to them. Like getting braces or breaking a leg, it seems to be something that happens to other people exclusively. But Karen is getting a divorce. She's getting a divorce and everything is turning to shit.

Apparently, divorce is the most stressful event a person can go through. Well, second worst, next to losing a child. Thank god that has never happened to Karen, or she'd be absolutely devastated. She knows this because she's barely managing with the divorce.

The divorce.

Karen is getting a divorce.

No matter how many times she says it, she still can't come to terms with the fact that Scott is going to be her ex-husband. He's leaving her. He's leaving the kids. They aren't going to be a family anymore. It's over.

Karen sobs into her arms. She's sitting at the table with an empty plate in front of her. She wanted to get a bagel, but she forgot all about it when her thoughts turned to her separation. She's hungry and miserable and quite possibly depressed. She didn't think it would come to this, but it has. Everything is wrong and nothing is right and Karen just wants the pain to end. She wants the sun to come crashing into the Earth in a fiery apocalypse of death and incinerate the entire population so that she won't have to admit that the love of her life is leaving her.

With a frustrated scream, Karen runs across the room and smashes her fist against a mirror that is hanging on the wall. She punches it repeatedly, ignoring the blood that drips down her hand. She shouts at her fragmented reflection, though she does not hear what she's saying. All she knows is that she hates herself and Scott and everyone in the world.

Everyone except for her children.

Oh, god. She's a mess, isn't she?

Karen falls to the ground, her knees bent in front of her. Her hair has come loose, and her clothing is stained with blood and tears. Still, she sits in the middle of a semicircle of shattered glass, crying helplessly. After a few panicked breaths, she reaches for the broom. It falls to the ground with the handle pointing away from her. She crawls towards it. The mirror fragments dig into her palms. She is making bloody handprints on the floor. When her fingers slide down the broom's bristles, they become red too.

Karen collapses. She lies on the ground like a wounded animal. She doesn't want to get up.

But she does. She cleans up the mess and takes a shower and wraps gauze around her hand and changes her clothes and looks perfectly sane by the time Gray comes home from school. As soon as the bus pulls away, he runs up to her and gives her a hug, smiling as he presses his cheek against her blouse. She hugs him back, as usual. She is suddenly reminded of Zach when he was this small. He'd waddle over with his backpack bouncing behind him and hug his mother, just like Gray is doing right now. Karen wishes that she could go back in time . . . back to when Zach wasn't embarrassed to say that he loved her . . . back when Scott loved her, too.

Karen can't stop herself from crying. She kneels down and rests her cheek on Gray's shoulder. Her tears get caught in his hair.

He's worried about her. He asks he if she's okay. He's noticed the bandage on her hand. She didn't mean for him to see. Now her sorrow has affected him.

Karen reassures her son that everything is okay and sends him up to his room. She is about to tell him that he can spend the next hour reorganizing his toy dinosaurs, but she knows that he would be suspicious if she allowed him to shirk his homework. He'll probably finish his math in no time, anyway. She'll let him have fun after that. He won't suspect a thing.

Once he's upstairs, Karen takes a deep breath. She picks up the phone, dials a long number, and leans against the kitchen counter with the receiver against her ear. It goes to voicemail. She tries again. After a grating dialup tone, it goes to voicemail once more. She tries for a third time and gets the same result.

This pattern remains unbroken for five more attempts. Karen begins pacing back and forth with fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. She's about to give up, but the sound of a familiar voice makes her change her mind.

"Karen?"

She whimpers pathetically.

"Claire, I need to talk to you."

There's a puzzled shuffling on the other end of the line.

"Karen . . . Are you okay?"

She sobs.

"No. Scott is divorcing me."

Her confession is met with a stunned pause.

"Oh . . . god . . . Karen, I'm so sorry."

She takes a shaky breath.

"Things are starting to get messy. I punched a mirror."

"You did _what_?"

"I punched a mirror with my bare fist. I must be going crazy."

"No, you're not. I did something similar a few weeks ago."

Karen frowns in confusion.

"Claire . . ."

"Let's not get off topic," she says evasively, "If you're actually getting divorced-"

"I am."

"-you'll have to sort out the legal proceedings. I know a good lawyer. I can have him fly over-"

"Claire, I'm not worried about the legal stuff. I'm worried about the kids."

Claire hums.

"They'll be fine."

"How do you know?"

"They're mature."

"You hardly know them."

"They take after you, don't they?"

Despite everything, Karen smiles.

"You're so good at flattery, Claire. But I really do need your help. Do you think you could look after them for a while?"

Silence.

"I just need a weekend. That's all," she adds.

Claire chokes a little.

"Karen, I haven't seen Zach and- I haven't seen the kids for a while. Are you sure they'd be okay with-"

"Please, Claire," Karen whispers, "I need you."

She gives a reluctant sigh.

"I might be able to fit them in. How does January sound?"

Karen's jaw drops.

"It sounds awful! Claire, I need you _right now_!"

"I'm busy with work. I can't just leave here."

"So I'll send them over to you."

"Wh- Oh, no, no, no, no, no!" Claire stutters, "You can't do _that_. I'm about to seal a deal with-"

"Claire. I'm _begging_ you. If you do nothing else for me as long as you live, do this. You're my only hope."

"This is a bad idea."

Karen closes her eyes.

"Trust me: as long as you help me through this, everything is going to be just fine."

"What if something goes wrong?"

Karen frowns.

"Now you're just making excuses."

Claire huffs angrily.

"Fine. Send them to Jurassic World for a weekend. I'll do what I can to make things right."


	3. Womanhood

"We have wide a range of programs. If you want to be put on the list for a surrogate mother-"

"Adoption is fine."

"Right, I'll get you a brochure."

Karen and Scott are sitting in front of a fancy desk. The lady behind it stands up and leaves. As soon as she's out of the room, Scott snickers.

"Did you see her hair?"

Karen twists the side of her mouth noncommittally.

"I didn't notice anything unusual about it."

"It was really frizzy," Scott snorts.

Karen clears her throat in a businesslike manner.

"So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" Scott asks cluelessly, typing something on his Blackberry.

"Adoption."

Scott sighs and pinches the space between his eyebrows.

"I guess if we have to, we have to."

Karen doesn't like this answer. She scoots her chair closer to him and bites her lip.

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really, _really_ sorry."

Scott exhales slowly and puts his hands in his lap.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it. I just wish we had known sooner. Did anyone else in your family have trouble getting pregnant?"

No. They hadn't. Probably because Scott was to blame for her inability to conceive. Karen hadn't told him because she didn't know how he'd react. It seemed far more sensible to claim that it was her own fault. Her plan kind of backfired, though. She should have seen this coming.

Sometimes, Karen wonders if she's an idiot. Maybe she's just too eager to please. She will often lie at the drop of a hat if the end game is winning someone's affection. But it never works. She's currently suffering because she lied to her husband. It was like that with Claire, too. Her attempts to draw her into her life only ended up pushing her away. And it's not just Claire: the Karen Equation applies to everyone. The more she tries to connect, the more she screws herself over. She's an embarrassment to everyone around her. It's always been that way, ever since the beginning. She's inherently disruptive. It's in her DNA. She feels the need to apologize for being born in the first place. And now she's going to adopt a child and ruin their life, too . . . Is she being scatterbrained again? No. Probably not. Maybe a little. Maybe a lot. She's worried. About what, though? Responsibility? Rejection?

"Scott . . ."

Karen is distraught. She can feel tears pricking at her eyes. She swallows the lump in her throat and continues.

"I want to thank you for not giving up on me. I know you didn't have to do that."

"I did."

RED FLAG! RED FLAG!

Scott notices the worry in Karen's eyes and smiles.

"I love you too much to let you go."

Oh, that's good. He was just leading up to a compliment. That's what he meant the whole time. Of course. Everything is okay.

Karen smiles and gives him a hug.

"I love you, Scott. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Karen."

Victory! He said that he loves her, and Scott would never lie. It's nice to know that in a world populated by billions of strangers, someone loves Karen, and is willing to stay with her even though she's a disappointment. Or a fake disappointment, as it were. Anyway, she must be doing _something_ right. Scott is a nice guy, and when a nice guy likes a person like Karen, that means they have worth. And Scott really _is_ a good husband. Karen knows this because Claire once said that he's a pretty decent man. If Claire likes Scott, Karen must have won her approval, somewhat. Or is she just grasping at straws? No, of course Claire is proud of her. She's just distant because that's the kind of person she is. It has nothing to do with Karen, personally. So there. She has won the approval of two very important people, which means that she's not a complete and utter embarrassment. And now she's going to adopt a child, which means that she'll be extra responsible. She'll have a perfect family and Claire will like her even more. She'll finally start coming to her Christmas parties and ski trips and family get-togethers. They'll be sisters again.

"Have you told Claire about this?" Scott asks.

"Claire?" Karen echoes, "Oh, I wasn't even _thinking_ about her . . ."  
Scott nods.

"Yeah, I can't imagine it would make a difference, anyway."

Karen feels her heart drop.

"What do you mean?"

Scott shrugs.

"She's a lone wolf, your sister. Nothing's going to change that. Not even a baby. Instead of ignoring you, she'll just ignore all three of us."

Karen shakes her head rapidly.

"She won't. When we get the baby, she'll move back to Madison. She'll want to be as close as possible so that she can be the best aunt ever. She can work from home . . . or quit her job altogether."

Scott laughs.

"You don't really _believe_ that, do you?"

Karen's lip quivers ever so slightly.

"No . . . Of course not . . ."

Noticing her subtle distress, Scott leans forward and puts his hand on her knee.

"Hey. Forget about Claire. This is about you and me . . . and our baby boy."

"Boy?" Karen echoes.

"Yeah. Were you thinking of adopting a girl?" he laughs.

Karen grins uncomfortably.

"No, no, no, no, no. Of course not. I want a boy for sure. That's what I want. Yep. I've always wanted a boy. A baby boy."

Shit. Now she'll have to come up with a new list of potential names.

"Yeah, me too," Scott chuckles, "Girls seem like too much work. Boys can be a handful too, but at least they're more useful in the long run. It's a good thing we're able to choose. Speaking of which, have you thought of a name yet? I was thinking 'Zach'. Same as my father."

Oh, perfect. He just solved her problem. And the name is lovely. Not quite what she had in mind, but lovely, nonetheless. She can get used to Zach. It's a decent name. She wonders if Claire will like it . . .

Scott watches as she knots the bottom of her blouse nervously.

"Karen?"

"Yeah?" she squeaks.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

She smiles.

"Of course. It's about time I did something for me."


	4. Youth

"Light as a feather, stiff as a board . . . light as a feather, stiff as a board."

Karen is lying in a circle of candles with her arms crossed over her chest. Her friends are huddled around her, their heads bent low. One of the girls peeks with one eye to determine whether or not they're making progress. Karen is still earthbound.

"Damn it! What are we doing wrong?" the lead girl huffs.

"Maybe we need more candles," Karen mumbles.

"Shut up!" she snaps, "You're just distracted or something."

Karen sighs and sits up.

"I don't know, Trixie-"

"Use my witch name!" she barks.

Karen rolls her eyes.

"Fine. Maybe we should try something different, Ebony Deathcrow."

She scowls.

"God, you're so bad at witchcraft, Karen. How do you expect to be a proper conjurer if you can't even pay attention to the goddamn spell?"

Karen _doesn't_ want to be a conjurer. She just wants to have a group of friends to hang out with. She's starting to regret her decision, now that everyone's into practical voodoo.

The girl who calls herself Ebony turns to a book that has been tea-stained to appear ancient and flips through it impatiently.

"There must be _something_ we can do together . . ."

"What about Bloody Mary?" a girl with braces lisps.

"Shut up, Brittany! Stop trying to be cool! I know you stuff your bra!"

The girl covers her chest in embarrassment. Karen gives her a worried look, then clears her throat.

"Ebony, maybe we ought to try something light. Most of the spells you've suggested require coffin nails and black hens. Is there a section on how to conjure up . . . oh, I don't know . . . _spiders_ or something?"

Everyone groans.

"You're so stupid, Karen!" Ebony barks, "This is why you don't have a witch name."

"It'd be better than the one you chose for me . . ." another girl mutters.

"SHUT UP, MOONMOON. NOBODY ASKED YOU!"

"Piss off!"

"GO HOME!"

The girl scowls and stands up, grabbing her coat from the bedpost.

"I was doing it ironically, anyway. Your party blows."

The girls watch her leave, then turn back to Ebony.

"What are we gonna do now?" Braces spits.

A girl with bad acne raises her hand.

"What about love spells?"

Karen perks up.

"Can I go first?"

The girls give a collective "ooh".

"Who's the lucky guy?" Acne teases.

"She's a girl."

The room falls silent. Karen's eyes go wide.

"No, I mean, it's my sister."

Realizing that this elaboration has only made her look worse, Karen sighs and holds her feet, rocking back and forth with crossed legs.

"I want my sister to like me. Next week is my dance recital, and I really want her to come."

"Dance recital?" Ebony snorts, "You're so preppy, Karen."

She shrinks away shyly.

"I've been practicing my Modern routine since September. I want to dedicate it to Claire."

Acne rolls her eyes.

"Karen, stop trying to impress your sister. She's never going to notice you."

"Yeah, she's so self-centered," Braces scoffs, causing Karen to cringe as she spits out her excessive S's.

"Claire's a dork," Ebony affirms, "My sister says that she's studying to be a scientist."

"So?" Karen growls somewhat defensively.

Ebony gives a cruel smirk.

"Everyone knows that girl-scientists are sluts."

Karen frowns, then stands up.

"You know what? Susie was right. Your party blows."

She reaches for the doorknob.

"Are you gonna go home and dance, Karen?" Ebony coos mockingly.

She turns around slowly.

"As a matter of fact, yes. My mom can afford dance lessons because, unlike you, I didn't blow my allowance on a nose job."

Karen storms out of the room and down the stairs. Ebony (Trixie) is home alone, so there's no one to stop her. Karen marches out the front door and crosses the road with a dignified air. She hopes that the girls are watching from the window.

 _Whooooooooo_ . . .

Karen gulps as a gust of wind whistles through the leafless trees. It's nighttime, so the streets are almost completely dark. Thankfully, it's not snowing. Even so, Karen can't help but feel that the weather isn't ideal. Dry leaves are blowing past her feet, and she doesn't have a coat to shield her from the chill. Perhaps her dramatic exit was a little premature.

Karen freezes when she sees a pair of headlight moving towards her. This is the kind of thing her mother warned her about. She's going to be attacked by a gang of teenage hooligans. They're going to drag her into the bushes and rip off her clothes. She's going to have to go to therapy sessions for the rest of her life and-

"Get in the car."

Karen sighs with relief.

"Claire. Thank god. I thought you were-"

"Get in the car!" she snaps.

Karen bites her lip, then waddles over to the passenger seat. When she's done up her seatbelt, Claire starts driving.

"How did you find me?" Karen asks.

"I saw Susie Morgan walking down the street. She told me you were doing witchcraft, so I decided to pick you up before you choked on essence of orange or something."

Karen looks down in shame.

"I'm sorry."

"You'd _better_ be. I had to cancel my date because of you."

For a while, the car is silent. Gradually, though, a soft sniffling becomes audible. Claire frowns and turns to Karen.

"Are you crying?"

Karen whimpers and presses her face into her sister's shoulder. She tenses up at the unexpected contact.

"I'm sorry you missed your date," she quavers shrilly.

Claire's face softens.

"It's fine. What's important is that we get you home safely. We don't want to- SHIT!"

She slams her foot on the brake. The car stops inches away from a pedestrian. He stumbles backwards in surprise.

"Watch where you're going, cow!"

Claire presses down on the horn angrily.

"You're supposed to look both ways, you rat-faced moron!"

As the man jogs away, Claire exhales and places her forehead on the steering wheel.

"Jesus. What an idiot."

Karen shrugs.

"He was kind of hot, though."

Claire sighs.

"Yeah, but he seemed pretty stupid."

"How do you know?"

"I can sense these things. Look, forget about it. He's not important."

They continue their drive. Claire taps her fingers on the wheel anxiously, obviously shaken from the encounter. Karen bites her lip and fiddles with her blouse.

"I'm sorry."

Claire furrows her brow.

"Why? It's not your fault."

Karen looks out the window, not wanting to make eye contact with her sister.

"If you hadn't picked me up, you wouldn't have . . . you know . . . almost killed him."

Claire laughs.

"Oh, please! That's an exaggeration. Even if I hit him, he probably would have survived."

Karen nods slowly.

"It's a good thing you were able to stop in time. It must be fate."

Claire rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Karen. Destiny brought us together. That man was secretly my future husband."

Karen smiles sassily.

"You shouldn't tease."

Claire lifts her eyebrows.

"I'm being serious. What, you think he's too good for me?"

Karen shoves her playfully.

"You know that's not what I meant."

There is another silence, but it's a happy one. Karen exhales peacefully as they approach their own street. When they roll up the driveway, she undoes her seatbelt and gives Claire a hug.

"Thank you for coming to get me."

Claire smiles.

"No problem. That's what sisters are for, right?"


	5. Adolescence

Karen runs gleefully through wet sand, her feet covered in a thin layer of grainy muck. She laughs and dodges a wave as it tries to lick her feet. She plays this game often, challenging the forces of nature to catch her. Sometimes, she is able to outrun them, but she's perfectly happy being caught as well. Regardless of her success or the lack thereof, she prefers to play this game with her friends. More specifically, she likes playing it with her sister. It's much more exciting when they can race the waves together.

Determined to improve her game, Karen stumbles up the hot, dry part of the beach and dashes up to Claire, who is sitting in the shade. She is reading a book called _The Last Unicorn_. Karen smiles and grabs her arm in an attempt to pull her into the sun.

"Come on, Claire. Come play with me!"

Claire snatches her hand away, sneering with contempt.

"Leave me alone, Karen! Stop being such a child!"

Karen pouts and extends her fingers, willing Claire to be drawn to her.

"Please, Claire," she whines, "You played _last_ summer . . ."

Claire lowers her book and frowns.

"Yeah, and last summer, I came home with a new patch of freckles. I'm not going to risk breaking out again."

Karen purses her lips.

"Just put on more sunscreen."

Claire scowls.

"You're blonde, Karen. You don't understand."

Karen rubs her arm sadly. She stares out at the shimmering lake, then turns back to Claire with a crooked mouth.

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to come?"

Claire peeks over the uneven pages. Karen thinks that she detects a glimmer of regret in her eyes, but she hides her face once more by burying it in the book.

"Yes. I'm sure. I don't want to be ugly."

"Freckles aren't ugly . . ."

"They are."

Karen sighs miserably.

"Alright. I'll be in the water if you need me."

Of course, Claire will never need her. She's perfectly happy sitting in the shade with her book. Well, not happy, but satisfied. And what gives Karen the right to judge her? If Claire wants to be pure and freckle-free, that's her business. Even so, she can't help but feel sorry for her. Claire secretly likes playing games, even if she won't admit it. She shouldn't let a couple of freckles get in her way.

Karen is about to run into the water, but thinking better of it, she turns around and grabs Claire's book. Before she can react, she flings it to the side and drags her into the sunlight by her wrists. She screams loudly.

"Come on, Claire! Come play in the s-"

Karen stumbles backwards as her sister strikes her across the face. She rubs her cheek with shock.

"Claire! . . ."

"Look what you've done!" Claire shrieks, holding her arms in front of her like they're covered in acid, "I'm going to get freckles! You've ruined everything!"

Karen shuffles away from her nervously.

"You've only been out of the shade for a couple of seconds . . ."

Claire's lip quivers, and tears start pouring down her cheeks.

"You've ruined everything! I hate you . . . I _hate_ you!"

She covers her eyes and sprints towards the washrooms, kicking up a cloud of sand as she runs. A few people turn to stare at her, wondering if something is wrong. Karen rubs her stinging cheek, then pursues her, trying not to draw attention to herself. When she reaches the metal door, she hesitates. She doesn't like the public washrooms at the beach, because they are smelly and cold and full of flies. Even so, she peeks through the door to look at her sister. She is standing by the sink, scrubbing her arms with cold water. Karen is sure that it won't help reduce her freckles, but that doesn't stop her from trying. She is alarmed to see that Claire is rubbing her arms so fiercely that they're turning red. She's trying to erase who she is one layer of skin at a time.

Suddenly, Claire looks up at her reflection and slams her fist against the mirror. It rattles violently, but stays attached to the wall. After shaking her hand out, Claire stares at her other self, her eyes lined with redness. She touches her cheek. When her fingers brush over a cluster of freckles, she starts sniffling helplessly. She buries her face in her arms, leaning against the sink for support. Her shoulders shake uncontrollably.

At this point, it would be wise to leave her alone. As much as Karen wants to help her sister, she knows that her intervention will only make her angrier. She retreats to the beach and sits on her towel, grabbing her ankles and staring out at the lake. She notices Claire's book lying in the sand, and picks it up. When she dusts off the cover, she takes time to examine the mythical beast on the front. In a way, Claire is like a unicorn. She's pure and innocent and wishes to remain untouched by the world around her. She is afraid to be human.

Karen runs her fingers down the mane of the illustration, then places it on Claire's towel with great care. She sees her mother waddling over with three hotdogs on a tray.

"Lunchtime, Karen! Where's Claire?"

Karen looks up at her mother with big eyes. After a moment, her smile disappears.

"I understand. I'll go talk to her. You wait here."

As her mother heads for the washrooms, Karen reaches for one of the hotdogs. She almost feels too sick to eat it, but she does anyway. As she sinks her teeth into the meat, she winces. She places the hotdog back in its wrapping and reaches into her mouth. She pulls out a small, white object.

It's her last baby tooth.


	6. Childhood

Karen has a special twig. It is not special in and of itself, but the fact that it was a gift from Claire makes it Karen's most prized possession. She keeps it in a small jewelry box at the bottom of her sock drawer. Whenever she feels lonely or upset, she pulls it out and rubs it between her fingers. She has had it for less than a day, and her skin is already beginning to form calluses. As the years go by, she will wear down the outer layer, but she is unaware of this fact for the time being. Right now, she is in that mystical state of existence where an hour lasts for an eternity, and next year seems to be eons away. All of the struggles that are yet to come mean nothing to Karen, because she is happy now, and now is the only time that matters.

Karen is sitting on her bed when something magical happens. Claire runs into her room and drags her into the hall playfully, her eyes aglow with excitement. They patter down the stairs, and Claire jogs over to the record player.

"Karen! Come dance with me!"

She lets the needle glide over her favorite record, and a heavy disco beat makes the family room rumble. Karen smiles and skips over to Claire, who has gathered a series of sparkling necklaces in her hand. She places the plastic jewelry around Karen's neck, and they begin to dance around the room chaotically. As Karen watches her sister spin around with green beads hanging from her shoulders, she can't help but feel that this is what Claire is meant to be. She's not trying to boss anyone around or boast about her achievements: she's just being Claire. Claire, who dances to disco music and wears green jewelry. Claire, who isn't afraid to crawl on all fours and shake her tail (so to speak). Claire, who smiles and laughs and loves her sister as much as she loves her back.

The two girls are having so much fun that they barely notice their mother strut into the room. She smiles and leans against the wall, relieved to see that her children getting along. Claire is the first to notice her. She grins and takes her by the hand, leading her into the center of the room. The three of them dance and dance and dance until they're out of breath. When the song ends, their mother scoops up Claire and examines her necklaces.

"You found your way into the jewelry box again, I see. You know, green is a good color on you, Claire. It brings out the blue in your eyes."

Karen hops up and down by her legs.

"Yes! Yes! And it makes your hair brighter, too!"

Claire's smile disappears. Karen realizes too late that she's said something wrong. Claire has been ashamed of the color of her hair ever since someone called her "carrots" at school. She even tried to cut it, once. Luckily, their mother caught her in time.

Hoping to repair the damage, Karen smiles at her sister, who is staring vacantly over their mother's shoulder.

"I think your hair is beautiful, Claire," she says softly, "I wish I looked as pretty as you do."

Claire gazes down at her, searching her face for any trace of irony. Finding none, she manages a half-smile.

"You're pretty too, Karen. And you dance good."

"Not as good as you."

Claire slips from her mother's arms, landing gently on the carpet. She gives Karen a hug.

"You know, sometimes I think you're just saying these things to be nice," she whispers.

Karen squeezes her.

"No, Claire, I'm not. You're the best person I've ever met."

"You too."

Karen's eyes go wide. She is shocked by this compliment. She looks up at her mother for guidance, hoping that she can explain this bizarre phenomenon. Instead, she smiles down at her reassuringly before walking out of the room. Karen frowns in puzzlement and lets go of Claire. They back away from each other, but Claire reaches out and holds Karen's hand. Their fingers lace together, and Claire gives her a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry for hitting you yesterday."

Karen blinks in surprise.

"You don't have to apologize again."

"I _want_ to apologize, Karen," Claire mutters, "I should have played nicely. If I'm mean to you, I won't have anyone to play with, so it's important to be kind. I'd take it back, if I could. I wish I could do yesterday over again."

Karen beams.

"You can! Let's go outside and play. It will be just like before, and you can forget that yesterday even happened."

Claire grins.

"Yeah! Let's go!"

They run outside, but when they step down from the patio, Claire slows to a stop. Karen turns around and looks at her with worry.

"What's wrong?"

Claire stares down at the ground.

"Karen, will we always be able to do this?"

She nods.

"Yes. We can play for as long as you want."

Claire shakes her head.

"No, I mean, we fight a lot, but we always come back to each other. What if we fight so bad that we won't be sisters anymore?"

Karen bites her lip.

"Do you really think that will happen?"

Claire rubs her arm.

"I might boss you around too much, one day. Then you won't love me anymore."

Karen shakes her head.

"I'll love you forever and ever, Claire, and I'll never let myself forget that. We'll always be sisters, as long as you promise to be patient with me when I'm sad."

"If it were up to me, you'd _never_ be sad."

Karen lifts her chin.

"So it's settled. We'll always be sisters, no matter what."

"No matter what."

They share a hug. When they pull apart, Karen grins merrily.

"Do you want to play horses, Claire?"

She rubs her chin.

"Can we try something new?"

Karen purses her lips.

"Like what?"

"I want to play dinosaurs," Claire says.

 **The End**


End file.
